


Little Bits

by icouldnotsee (herprettysleeper)



Category: Supernatural, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, M/M, this is a collection of drabbles so it's everywhere
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:56:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 2,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11476176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/herprettysleeper/pseuds/icouldnotsee
Summary: Drabbles, reposted here.





	1. Imagine talking to Dean about your childhood dreams (Dean x reader)

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a collection of drabbles. Some of them are titled, others not. The pairings will be in the chapter titles.

“Are you happy with this?” You gesture around you. “Hunting. Is it okay with you? Do you want to do anything else?”

Dean smiles slightly. “I’m alright. You?”

“I want to travel,” you say, shrugging. “I know we move around a lot on the job, but I mean the world. When I was little I wanted to be a travel writer.”

“Alright, Dora.” You roll your eyes, and he laughs, then clears his throat. “What changed that, then?”

You dance around the question, lean back in your seat. “Circumstance.” You seem far away. “Circumstance and a shitload of bad luck.”

Dean looks over to you, a little sad. Then he looks back on the road and hits the accelerator.

When you get down, having arrived at the closest motel in the city you need to stop in, he says, quietly, “A mechanic. For cars.”

The corner of your lip twitches upwards. You glance at Baby, at the boy in front of you. “You like to fix broken things, then.”

“I guess you could say that, Dora.”

The boy with the green eyes flaked with gold turns around, hauling your bag over his shoulder, and heads for the check-in desk. You smile to yourself and follow him.


	2. Sharing a drink with Dean (Dean x reader)

You’re at a restaurant, trying to research a case.

“Why the hell would a ghost go after former cheerleaders?” you ask, half groaning and trying to resist slamming your head against the keyboard. There’s a reason research is Sam’s job, but no. He had to get sick, and now—

The waitress comes by and smiles at you. Dean is looking through a magazine under the counter—no shame—and looks up with a smile. “Hello, darling.”

By this point, you know those words mean practically nothing. You smile back at the waitress, say, “Hi.”

“Can I take your order?” Her voice is sweet and kind.

“He wants a bacon cheeseburger and a beer,” you say, and Dean nods at you approvingly. “Same thing.”

You hand over ID—your name right now is Leia Vivaldi, and you frown a bit when she doesn’t smile at the references. She glances at Dean’s—Freddie Zeppelin,  _so_ conspicuous—and smiles before going to take your orders.

“Well,” Dean begins, “Cheerleaders aren’t known for their upstanding morals, exactly.’

“Ain’t that unfortunate,” you mutter.

“Everyone hates high school.” Dean shrugs. “Some people carry it with them forever.”

You nod, then close the laptop as the food comes, thank the waitress and start to eat. Dean takes a sip of beer. You watch him for a second, then stare back at your food and take a bite.  _Nice._

Dean somehow manages to finish everything he’s ordered in half a second. There’s cheese and grease all over his mouth and chin. You smile slightly, and he looks up, bright green eyes staring at you through long eyelashes, and,

“Dude, what the hell?”

He’s taken your beer and he drinks half of it, makes a refreshed sound. “That’s nice.”

“Go die in the hole you came from, Winchester.”

His eyes sparkle with a semblance of mischief. “Only if you come with me.”

You reach out with a napkin, wiping his face. He scrunches up his nose but doesn’t move away. “Thanks, Mom.”

You roll your eyes and take a sip of your beer, pay the waitress and share the rest of the bottle on your way back to the motel.


	3. Hopeless changes over time (Dean x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song!fic - ["Hopeless"](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6W2dG3fcdks%0A) by Halsey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set before the whole “Death wants to take Dean to space” escapade in s10. MOC!Dean x reader, and it’s technically platonic. It’s also quite a bit longer than a drabble should be, so I’ma go ahead and put it under a cut. My prompt was "Hopeless changes over time."

“Dean?” He looks up to almost meet the bartender’s eyes, and she says, “I gotta close up shop in ten.”

“Oh.” He realizes that weak sunlight is filtering in through the cracked window. He gets to his feet, head still churning with situations he wishes he didn’t have to think through. He nods, avoids looking directly at her so he doesn’t see Castiel’s bloodied form in the reflection of her eyes. “Yeah—I’ll leave in a minute.”

“Hey,” Y/N says, and he stops. “Got anything on your mind?”

_Nothing except the fact that I’ve murdered people who didn’t deserve it. Nothing except the fact that I’m corrupted. Except the fact that I’ve got to be stopped before I hurt anyone else._

“No,” he says.

She sighs. “You know, that’s a load of bullshit.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“Yeah, but I know that you stayed here overnight drowning yourself in your sorrows,” she points out, and he’s envisioning the quickest past out of here when she says, “and I know that I’ve met people just like you. Who’ve seen things. Or are dealing with them. And they pretend that nothing’s happening, and they bottle it up until it explodes and nothing’s left.” She pushes her hair behind her ear. “It’s a small town, sir. Packed full of veterans. Tell me if I’m lying.”

She’s right. She’s right, and he chuckles at the absurdity that’s his life. “You’re not. But I don’t have the time to tell you my life story.”

Her elbows are on the counter, chin resting in her hands. “Then tell me your problem.”

He falters. “I’ve—I have to do this thing,” he starts, questions his word choice, barrels on anyway, “and I could save a lot of people with it. Put an end to something awful.”

“But?”

“But someone could get hurt.”

“Let me guess—family?”

He nods.

“Look, sir,” she looks straight at him, “a long time ago, someone told me there’s no such thing as a problem with no solution, there’s just not looking for one. When do you have to come up with an answer?”

“Really soon. Give or take a week.”

“See? You’ve got time. Take it.”

She’s not wrong. It doesn’t help.

“What if I make the wrong choice?”

She shrugs. “You might. But it’s not as hopeless as you’re thinking. Only half as much.”

He laughs a little and she smiles.

“Well, I’m hoping that  **hopeless changes over time,**  then.”

“For you?” She lifts the corner of her mouth. “Me too, sir.”

He smiles back.

It takes him a couple of miles, and the slop of a bar is miles behind him when the answer clicks into his mind, settles in his heart. He’s going to meet Death, yes. Sam will be there, yes.

Except now, he knows what to do.


	4. Dean x sister!reader / Crowley x reader

“You can’t date Crowley!”

You plop down in your chair, take a sip from your water bottle, wipe the sweat from your face.

“Not dating,” you correct.

“That’s…oh my God, that’s even worse.”

You give him a sweet smile.

“I  _object._ ”

“Can’t. I’m an adult. Plus, this isn’t a wedding.”

“Will actually kill you.”

“Don’t lie.”

He lets out a deep breath. “…why?”

“He was there. Things happened. Why are you complaining? You practically dated him for months.”

“And now, I  _will_ kill you.”

“Love you too, big bro.”


	5. Dancing with Dean (Dean x reader)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which you dance with Dean in the laundromat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pure fluff, okay?

“Y/N.”

“I’m trying to be mad at you,” you protest. “Go away.”

You close the washer door, dump detergent into the appropriate slot.

“Why?”

You give him a look.

He shuffles his feet. “Right.”

You angrily shove clothing from the other washer into the closest empty dryer. He helps, finds another dryer when that one isn’t big enough.

When the things are in cycle and you’re leaning against a row of washers, he says, “Dance with me.”

“What?”

He takes your hands and says, “Would you do me the honor?”

Giddiness bubbles up in your chest—you force it down. Anger. You’re angry. “We’re in the middle of the laundromat.” Your hands slip into the right positions, and you start moving in a slow box on the floor, matching his movements. “I’m still pissed.”

“I know. I’m sorry,” he says. He spins you around so your back is against his chest, so you’re swaying gently with him. You throw in a twirl and he laughs, catches you in his arms, and dips you just for good measure. You can’t help a smile.

“This isn’t fair,” you say, your voice light.

He whispers, “I’ll make it up to you.” The words are warm against your ear.

You only blush a little. “You’d better.”


	6. Imagine Dean singing “You Are My Sunshine.” (Dean x reader)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry.

It isn’t supposed to end like this. It can’t.

“Hey,” you say, stroking his hair, matted with blood. Your other hand is pressing on his stomach wound. “It’s gonna be okay.” The werewolf pack is dead around you, but he can’t move, he can barely breathe, and soon–you don’t entertain the possibility. “It’s gonna be fine, alright?”

“Let’s,” he inhales sharply through the pain, “not lie to ourselves.”

“No.”

“I love you, Leia.” he says softly.

“I know, Hans.”

“Don’t kill the mood.” The corner of his lip twitches up.

Quick run. It was supposed to be a quick run.

He starts to close his eyes, and you panic. “Dean?  _Dean!_ ”

His eyes open, and he looks concerned. “Y/N. Calm down. You’ll be okay. Promise.”

“Dean, no.” You start to cry, and he reaches up to brush your tears away.

“You and Sammy will be alright. Promise, sweetheart.” You don’t stop, the tears loose, so he traces a circle on your cheek, sings softly:

“ _You are my sunshine,_

” _My only sunshine._

“ _You make me happy when skies are gray._ ”

You smile and join him.

“ _You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you._ ”

“ _Oh, please don’t take my sunshine away._ ”

You sing it again.

“ _You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you,_

” _Oh, please don’t–_ “

He’s not singing.

“Dean?”

He’s still.

“No.  _Please._ ” You put your fingers to his pulse–silent.

You pull his body to yourself and sob.


	7. On a ledge, sometime at night (Claire x Ben)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Claire and Ben think through their pasts at night.

“So the Winchesters fucked up both our lives, then,” she says.

They are sitting on the roof of city hall, on a ledge that’s half like home, the soles of their shoes rubbing dirt onto the rough surface. Ben has noticed Claire’s hair, cleanly braided into a ponytail that lies between her shoulder blades and stops at her mid-back. His phone is tucked halfway under a shingle, held well-enough in place and letting spirals of AC/DC inhabit the quiet night air around them.

Ben doesn’t remember why they started coming here in the first place, just that now when Claire sneaks out of the house next door where she lives with Jody and Alex to tap on his bedroom window, he knows exactly where they’re heading next–here.

The move to Sioux Falls had been unpleasant, and Ben had retreated back into his shell. His mother had felt the sudden need to leave their old house, like she suddenly couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t either, but he’d had friends. They were too suddenly taken away.

He’d try to tell people stories, but suddenly there’d be a huge gap in them that was too wide to even go around, so he just stopped talking.

He’d been getting the mail at the new place when he’d seen Claire, standing on the sidewalk and on her phone, hissing at someone on the other end of the line. “I swear to God, Dean Winchester–”

The holes in his memory had filled, like water flooding to fill a dry cavity when the dam cracks, then destroying the rest of the structure.

He’d stumbled back; she’d glanced at him.

He’d suddenly remembered a number and called it. A deep, familiar voice answered.

It’s been three months since Dean’s explanation and Ben still hasn’t said a word to him.

Claire had been there, though, and they’d traded stories about those who had destroyed all they’d known. He wouldn’t say Claire was fond of him, no–just that she was lonely and had nowhere to go, and like attracts like.

She’s staring out at the quiet suburbia around them, and as the moonlight shines off her blonde plait, he notes that she looks like a hunter–not the kind the Winchesters are, with the messiness and the grit and the  _hurt,_  but a different type of guardian, the eternal kind that would accompany Artemis as she hunted. Silent. Deadly. Unattainable.

Slightly broken. Self-repaired with a bit of oil hastily applied to their joints, forcing themselves forward through a miserable existence.

She hasn’t looked at him since they got here, besides slight glances when the other isn’t looking. He’s done the same.

Finally, he answers her question.

“Yes. Yes, they did.”


	8. Bethyl #1

“You wanna close your eyes?”

Beth’s smile is bright, her voice teasing. “Gettin’ soft now, Mr. Dixon?”

“Just shut up and do it.”

Her grin widens, but she closes her eyes anyway.

“Where’re we goin’?”

“You’ll know when we get there.”

He gently guides her through the thicket until he’s at the spot, and then he helps her up the rocky hill.

“If you’re guiding me to my eventual death by gravity, I'ma be  _so_ pissed.”

He resists smiling and finally they’re where they need to be. He stops the soft pushing on her shoulder. “Open ‘em.”

The waterfall is luminescent in the noonday Sun, and Beth gasps quietly. It looks like Eden here.

She simply watches for a long time, the loudness of the water crashing into the pool below drowning out all other noise.

“God,” she breathes.

“You like it?”

When she turns to see him, she’s positively beaming. “Yes.” She kisses his cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Dixon.”

And Daryl doesn’t look down and shuffle his feet and blush and wonder how the hell he was lucky enough to find her in the middle of the apocalypse.


	9. Sastiel #1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My SPN otp...I love them.

Castiel’s mission is Dean Winchester.

That’s the man he was sent to protect, to watch over. And Castiel understands the importance of that.

But then there’s Sam.

Sam, who is polluted with demon blood. Sam, who is destined to say yes to the greatest of monsters, the darkest of angels.

Sam, whose smile lights up rooms. Sam, who looks at Castiel as if he is blessed to be in the angel’s presence. Sam, who listens and understands, wears more years than he should, and is so, so kind.

Castiel’s mission is Dean Winchester.

But the younger Winchester’s light has found its way into Castiel’s being, and the change is irreversible.


	10. DeanJo #1

Jo is sleeping next to Dean, both of them having almost completely slipped into unconsciousness.

She mumbles, “We should get married.”

Dean’s in a worse state, but says, “I’m gonna propose to you tomorrow.” He turns on his side, snuggling into the comforters. “I got the ring and everything.” He pulls Jo to him without thinking about it.

“Cool,” she yawns, pressing to him. “I’ll say yes.”

“Thanks.”

They forget about the conversation in the morning, but that night, in the middle of the woods in a clearing that has always been theirs, Dean proposes, and Jo does say yes.


	11. Poorly Assembled (DeanJo #2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Dean fails at assembling dollhouses.

“Are we completely sure that’s how it’s supposed to look?” Jo says as she enters their daughter’s room.

Dean steps back from the dollhouse, which, while being in pretty much the right form, seems to have no sturdy foundation anywhere. “I’m like, eighty-four percent sure.”

Jo smiles.

“Mommy!”

Allie comes running towards her, hugs her legs. Dean picks her up, and Allie giggles. Her eyes widen when she sees the dollhouse, and Dean sets her down.

Their little girl walks towards the dollhouse. She touches one of the columns.

It all comes tumbling down.

Dean pulls her back before anything can fall on her, and Allie stares at the heap of once-was-a-dollhouse and blinks. She looks up at Dean with wide eyes and says, “That was poorly assembled.”

She skips out of the room, and Dean and Jo share a look.

“So,” Dean starts. “Wanna help me–”

“Allie, do you want me to play with you?” Jo’s already out of the room, and Dean hears an excited squeal from their daughter.

He stares at the mess, shakes his head with a smile, and approaches it.


	12. Haunted House (Sastiel #2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Cas and Sam are at a haunted house, and things don’t go well.

“Could you be any louder?” Sam mutters.

“Theoretically,” Castiel says. Sam hits his arm lightly—Castiel smiles.

The haunted house is dark, and they’re all alone. Sam wishes he didn’t let his boyfriend convince him that this was even close to a good idea.

Sam’s on edge, but he keeps telling himself nothing can hurt him here, even if he doesn’t believe it.

Something pokes him, and Sam spins around, and his entire body freezes up in fear.

It’s a clown.

He stumbles back, colliding into Castiel. “Cas,” he says, voice a little desperate.

“What—” his eyes land on the target of Sam’s terrified gaze. “Oh,” he says, holding onto his boyfriend’s hand. It’s out this way.”

The clown laughs, and it starts running after him.

Sam sprints, hears Castiel curse after him as he catches up. Sam stops, heart pounding, the laughter of the clown behind them. He doesn’t know where the way out is.

“Here, this way,” Castiel says, leading him outward. Sam and him stumble onto the grass, and when Sam sees the clown leering from right behind the opening outside, he keeps running.

“Sam! Sam, please hold on.”

He stops, and Castiel gets to him.

“I’m sorry,” Sam says. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overreact—”

“Not your fault,” Cas assures. “It’s okay. I’m sorry I took you here in the first place.”

“Not your fault either.”

They both smile at each other for a moment, before Sam says, “Wanna get ice cream?”

“Yeah, good idea.”


End file.
